


The Forbidden Lands

by TheFool0



Category: Shadow of the Colossus
Genre: Murder, little to no dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-02-28 11:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18755176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFool0/pseuds/TheFool0
Summary: A story of the land of the collosi and the people that lived there before Wander set foot upon it.





	1. Chapter 1

** The Blessed Lands **

The scriptures told of a vast plain blessed with fertile soils and clear waters. Within that plain grew fruits that increased vitality and glowing creatures that could increase fortitude and strength.

The scriptures told of a land hidden away by the Gods, guarded by 16 creatures known as Colossi who loomed so tall that it was said that the mountains themselves knelt before them.

The scriptures told of a bridge that spanned across a savage desert that lead into a temple where the Blessed Lands would open itself to those that found it.

Omne believed those scriptures. He had no choice but to believe them. His people were starving, wounded after their tribe was scattered from their farms by the Queen’s army. They had travelled through sheer mountains, dense forests and empty plains where the rain poured down upon them. They had lost many along the way, including Omne’s mate, morale was at an all-time low and many were starting to lose faith in Omne, even the Gods themselves. Yet they pushed on, hoping and praying that the Blessed Lands were real and not just a folk tale.

They came across two temples with a light shining through a narrow crack in the middle. Through the crack Omne saw a large temple looming in the distance. The crack was large enough for a horse to fit through so Omne sent a few soldiers to scout ahead, led by his son Emon. They came back an hour later telling tales of a bridge that lead to a monstrous temple and vast grassy lands beyond the temple. The faces of Omne’s tribe lit up. Could this be The Blessed Land the Scriptures told of?

The following day Omne led his entire tribe across the bridge. Below them was the desert that looked more like a sea of sand and straight ahead lay the temple, beckoning them forward. At the end of the bridge was a door that opened automatically, as if the temple itself was welcoming them. Inside were winding steps that led downwards. They descended, the clattering of their horses’ hooves echoing down the temple. At the bottom of the winding staircase was a pond with the purest water Omne had ever seen. His tribe gathered around that pond while he and a few members of his personal guard headed into the light.

It was almost blinding.

As the horses trotted on ahead, Omne noticed stone idols of numerous different creatures of all shapes and sizes. Creatures Omne had never seen in his life. There was an altar at the end of the temple and finally a staircase that lead down to a beautiful grassy field. Omne and his son were the first to set foot on this land, his tribe followed.

Omne breathed a sigh of relief, finally his people were safe. The last thing he heard before he collapsed onto the grass was the voice of his son and the last thing he saw was a majestic beast that cast a gigantic shadow across the fields he lay upon.

 

….

The scriptures told of a vast plain blessed with fertile soils and clear waters. Within that plain there lived a tribe who had managed to escape the persecution of a ruthless Queen. The tribe built large cities guarded by majestic Colossi.

The scriptures told of a vast plain. Within that plain the people witnessed a decadence, more focused on the material they started hoarding the blessed fruit of that land, selling it for coins that meant nothing. The people challenged the Guardians of the land for sport, building arenas to confine and belittle them.

The scriptures told of a vast plain and the darkness that threatened to consume it all.


	2. The Man

** The Man **

The demon offered him a deal, 16 souls and he would have his son back. He had given him a sword, “To capture their souls,” he said and after that the man found himself outside the temple, sword in hand.

The sword was relatively normal, the only odd thing was an eye on its hilt and carvings embedded in the blade. He thought nothing of it, just as long as he could bring his child back.

His first target was the doctor; he had refused his son treatment despite the gold he had brought to him. He let the doctor see his face before stabbing him in the heart.

The next day there was panic in the city. Nobody had died in a long time. nobody had been _murdered_. There were a few deaths in the arena but murder, nobody would’ve dared. The Guardian Cenobia was set forward to find the killer. The man could not enter that city again.

The next target was the Hoarder, a shrewd old man who kept all the fruit to himself. If his guards hadn’t found the man sifting through his gardens, he would have managed to run off with some for his son. The man sliced his head off, his blood staining the blessed gardens he sold.

Their faces haunted the man. The stench of their blood and their eyes locked in one permanent expression. The doctors of confusion and the Hoarder’s of surprise.

Next was the General, a man who had tortured and beat him for stealing the fruit. No matter how much the man begged and pleaded for just one fruit for his son, no matter how much he cried, the whip kept tearing into his back. For it was no human that was the judge, but the whip.

He strangled him with the whip before stabbing him through the chest.

Soon there was a manhunt, the tribe wanted the murderer dead.

Occasionally the Man visited his son, he was underneath the temple. The temple where all the Shaman prayed. The man had resorted to asking the Shaman for help but they too had refused, sending him and his dying son off with a useless prayer. He knew they hoarded the fruit too for the Hoarder’s garden was right atop their temple. It was raining, drenching him. His son was covered in a thick blanket and his breathing was steadily becoming slower. He had made it to the temple begging the Shaman for fruit, throwing what little gold he had left but they shook their head solemnly, sending him off. He caught the eye of Lord Emon, the head Shaman but his face remained impassive beneath that mask of his.

Enraged he left the temple, his son slowly dying in his arms. However, his horse slipped in the grass and he was taken deep in a cave, his dead son in his arms and a sword floating in a blue light right in front of him.

His son was still in the cave, the Demon telling him he’d keep him safe. Though the Man didn’t trust the Demon he had no choice. He was getting desperate and he didn’t want to lose more family.

The fourth was in the city of Avion. The Man had to keep hopping from city to city as staying in one city for a long time could arouse suspicion. This City was patrolled by another one of the Guardians, one that could fly. The Man watched in awe as the guardian perched atop the largest building in the middle of the city in the Lake, the moon casting a pale silver light on the Guardians beautiful wings. But the Man was not here to gawk, he had a mission to do.

The Labourer was a greedy man, adorning himself in fine spotless garments while his workers built his mansion with their blood. The Man worked for him, wanting to earn as much gold as he could for his ailing son. Little did he know that each brick he lay in was just but a futile endeavour for a greedy man.

Navigating through the mansion, for the Man knew the house brick by brick he saw him in one of his rooms, underneath a blanket. His body was disgusting, nothing but flaps of fat that cascaded down upon him like waves at a beach. The Man wondered if his sword could even pierce him.

He found out, moments later that his sword could cut through him like he was a slice of bread. A woman appeared in her night clothes. When she saw the bloodied bed and The Man wiping his sword, she screamed. It was the Labourers wife. She ran as fast as she could, probably to alert the Guardian for the Guardians were the sworn defenders of the cities. The Man followed suit, tackling her into a room. She begged for her life, his blade shut her up. Before she died, there was a look of resignation on her face.

It was after that, he decided to wear a mask.

The Man noticed that slowly his face became paler, his blood slowly darkening but The Man didn’t care. He would do whatever it took to bring his son back. His pale skin reminded him of his deceased mate laying on her deathbed, her life slowly draining away from her. She had died of the same disease that their son was ailed with.

He remembered when they were young, atop the back of Quadratus they’d climb to see the sunset on the beach. He remembered her delight in seeing the smaller Guardians, Cenobia and Celosia. It felt like centuries ago when they had gotten married and she was pregnant with their first child. He remembered the delight in her face when he was born, despite her weary eyes.

He remembered the Shaman placing her dead body in the burial mounds. It seemed even the Guardian itself had a look of pity in its giant blue eyes. Blue eyes that looked as if they could see the secrets he kept buried in his soul.

Her delicate features and wavy hair could be seen in his son. It was all the more reason to carry on with his mission.

 The Man couldn’t enter the cities, for risk of alerting the Guardians.  So he wandered through the fields. He saw a Shaman praying at one of the temples, his blood now stained the stone altar.

A Merchant caused quite a stir amongst a group of spectators. His dead body caused quite a stir amongst a group of spectators.

There was a caravan, being pulled by two horses. The Man butchered one of the horses and set the other free. The Rider begged for his life, the Man gave him death.

His Son emerged from within the caravan, confused at the commotion. His innocent look reminded the Man so much of that of his son. He killed him before he had discovered the dead body of his father, to preserve his innocence.

Or so he told himself.

His skin got darker like venom coursing through his veins.

The Man remembered his son, the bright eyed look he gave everything in the land. He admired the world around him even though the Man and many others saw just how ugly it was becoming. His son was an adept archer and good with animals.

Slowly all the faces blurred into one. He didn’t know how many he had killed. All he could remember was the boy he had murdered and the look of confusion he had as the sword pierced his chest.

Slowly he started limping, the darkness in his body like venom in his veins. But he was not yet done, he just needed to kill just a few more, just a few more for his son.

There was a family living in a small tent. The Colossus Basaran roamed this land. A land of clear springs and large trees with grassy mountainsides.

The Father saw the Man limping. He ran over, eager to help. What he didn’t expect was a sword in his chest. The Mother screamed, she was silenced. The Son cried in his cot. He was just but a baby.

There was a look of hesitance in the man’s eyes.

He remembered his son bundled up in his mate’s arms. A weary smile on her face.

That was when the Man became the Monster.

Basaran was too late. A bolt of lightning made the tent explode into nothing but fabric.

Black tendrils wrapped themselves around the Man, piercing his heart, spreading across his entire body. Slowly the darkness expanded, forming arms, horns and a pair of hollow white eyes.

Beneath the temple, his son woke.


	3. The Sword of Light

The darkness was powerful, spreading across the lands like a poison and slowly eating it away. Whoever came into contact with the darkness was fully consumed and turned into a shadow, a hollow husk of their former selves.

Emon and a few of the survivors gathered together in one of the cities under the watchful eye of Argus. The Guardians were immune to the darkness as they were beings made of light.

It had been a few weeks and already the people were losing hope. Food was running low, disease was spreading amongst them. Many went out to face off against the Demon that plagued the lands under protective seals embedded onto their cloaks, some were wounded, many were killed.

Whilst many were dying, families were torn apart, fights were breaking out over a morsel of food; Emon found it an apt punishment. Especially witnessing his tribe slowly becoming obsessed with the material rather than the spiritual teachings passed down by their ancestors. He knew it was despicable of him to think that however the thought still prevailed in his mind. However they were still his people, his tribe entrusted to him by his father and so he had an obligation, nay a duty to protect them despite their moral misgivings. Despite this however, Emon felt a despair spreading over him. How could they fight the Demon that plagued their lands? A Demon who overwhelmed the Guardians themselves? The Guardians were immune to the Demons for they were beings of Light, however his people were beings of flesh. There was no way they could withstand the overwhelming darkness and sheer power of the beast.

As despair slowly settled over him, Emon knelt for one last prayer to whatever God was listening for a solution to his predicament so that he may fulfill his duty as Village Chief to his people. He prayed to the Gods for a light to guide him through the darkness, a beacon for him and his people during these hopeless times.

That night Emon had a dream of the Guardian of the Lake who could shoot lightning from its tusks and stand atop the temples of worship that surrounded it. A collosi so huge that it’s leg touched the bottom of the lake itself. The people called him Pelagia. Atop his head were ores of a mysterious kind. If their archers tried to shoot it, it invoked Pelagia’s wrath as they were greeted by bolts of lightning. One of their scientists climbed atop its back and managed to chip off a piece but was promptly drowned and the piece was forever lost within the lake.

In the dream Emon witnessed a man with a mask removing the ore, a forbidden act especially by those who worshipped the Guardian. The man raised the ore to the heavens and suddenly there was a flash of lightning and instead of the ore the man now held a sword that shone as bright as the sun.

Emon woke and he knew what he must do.

At dawn him and a few members left for Pelagia’s land under the darkened skies. It was a long trek and along the way they ran into the Demon’s shadow creatures. There just but a few at first but as Emon’s people battled the demon and failed, more were added to their ranks. It was a long trek, one that took a few days. A few from their ranks were wounded, some had been corrupted and at the end it was only Emon that scaled the cliffs and entered Pelagia’s temple.

There were but a few people there, mainly worshippers of the colossi or as Emon liked to think of them, the forsakers. Those who had left the old ways of the tribe to worship the Guardians. They had built three temples within the lake surrounding the Guardian. Many would climb atop the temples and attract the Guardians attention, the Guardian would them lean over them and they would consider themselves blessed by the Guardian.

As he entered, Emon could see he was not welcome. A few of their people had evacuated to the temple but the Shaman stared at him like he had committed a crime. The head of the Pelagia temple came to him, a man named Seido. He said one word, “Speak.”

Emon told him his plans. There was outrage amongst the Shaman as how could anyone harm their beloved God. Especially one who had publicly shunned their people and their beliefs. Emon begged, pleading that it was the only way. They told him to leave. Emon got on his knees and begged yet again.

“If not for me, do it for your people.”

And Emon was right. Those who had evacuated to the temple were starving, many were sick and their eyes were glazed over like that of a corpse.

Seido hesitated before finally giving Emon the clear. However if Emon died, nobody would be recovering his corpse or the ore.

Armed with only his sword and rope Emon walked through the stone hallways until he appeared at the edge of the lake. Pelagia had just awoken, it’s horns glowing a pale blue. Emon swam across the lake and towards Pelagia who just peered at him curiously. Pelagia didn’t have any eyes unlike the other Guardians which Emon and many others found eerie. Emon climbed atop the moss on his back which Pelagia was used to. Many times the scientists and worshippers. The scientists to study the ore and the worshippers as a form of worship.

Emon tied the rope to the hilt of his blade and wrapped it around the ore, one of which looked loose. It was then Pelagia realised what was happening, its tusks turned a vibrant orange, he started shaking his head furiously to toss Emon off but Emon held on. Grabbing the fur with his right hand he pulled the sword with his left, pulling it with as much strength as he could muster. He could feel the ore loosening, if he could just tug it one more time...

With a final heave of strength Emon removed the ore. Pelagia let out a shrill moan of pain and before he knew it Emon was launched across the air as his back hit one of the stone temples and the world around him turned black.

...

By the time Emon woke it was already dusk. Pelagia had already submerged and Emon could feel pain a sharp pain across his body. But all was well as he had the ore tightly clutched in his arms like he was holding an infant. Emon limped towards the temple, clutching the ore in his arms. Their next stop was the blacksmiths.

Emon and his men headed to the forge, home of the Guardian Celosia. As they rushed to the forge Emon noticed that the creatures of shadow avoided them, a few came close but when they saw the ore they reeled back like wounded animals.

Only but a few blacksmiths remained. Most had been killed off by the creatures, others had left the forge never to return. Celosia patrolled the forge, chasing away any creatures that approached the perimeter.

Emon told the remaining blacksmiths of his dream and what he expected to do. Some were hesitant as they weren’t sure they should be tampering with the Guardians, others not so much for they wanted to see their families.

From the fires of the forge came the Sword of Light. Or as the blacksmiths called it, the sword of the Ancients. Emon raised the sword into the air and from the heavens a bright beam of light shone. The sword shined as bright as the sun, expelling the shadow creatures that descended onto the forge, turning them into ash. The people cheered, Celosia roared into the air for finally there was hope. The demon could be expelled, the lands could be saved. The blacksmiths gifted Emon a mask, a mask of power enhanced with magical runes that would increase Emon’s strength. Finally after months of suffering, the land could be saved.

...

The Demon could be found in the Guardian Basaran’s land. Once a beautiful oasis with green gardens and pure springs was now reduced to barren grounds and violent geysers that shook the earth and spewed a violent torrent of water into the heavens.

There the Demon and Basaran were at odds. Challenging each other with sheer strength and colossal force. The Demons sword barely pierced Basaran’s hide while shadows curled around the holes that Basaran’s bolts of lightning seared into the Demon.

Emon’s soldiers let out a battle cry as Emon raised the sword to the sky. A beam of light struck the sword like a bolt of lightning and the Demon turned.

The war raged on. Emon’s army was slowly being consumed by the Shadow creatures despite Emon’s best efforts to expel them. The Demon stopped its fight with the Guardian and stomped towards Emon. Emon rolled out of the way as the Demon released a breath of searing hot flames. Emon did not know how he would face the beast. Most of his men were dead, the Guardian lay limp on the ground and it was only Emon that stood in the way of this Beast and the death of his Tribe.

Emon raised the sword up into the air, the light struck the sword and knocked the beast back. Slowly the Demon shrunk, writhing in pain. It keeled over as the light turned the once intimidating demon to a shadow the size of a man.

Emon walked towards the demon and stabbed it with his sword. Darkness swirled around him, black tendrils crashed on the ground like waves. Black blood splattered across Emon’s face, staining his mask. Slowly the darkness was absorbed unto the blade like ink on paper until the Demon disappeared and all that was left was a man.

The man seemed to be on deaths door, gasping for breath. His blood stained Emon’s sword a filthy black instead of a passionate crimson. His face now dark and his eyes glazed. Emon realised the man, a noble man who had come begging in his temple for the fruit that would save his sons life. A noble man who was a victim of twisted materialistic men who were as vile as the Demon were that threatened their land. A man who turned away from his faith and turned to darkness to bring back that which he had lost.

“My son,” he said in a raspy voice.

“He is at peace now,” Emon told him.

The Man pointed at Emon’s sword. “Separate the Demon, make sure his spirit is never allowed to merge again.”

The Man was holding a sword in his left hand, a sword made of pure darkness. “And hide this sword away from any mortal lest the Demon tempts another man to go down the path I have.”

Slowly the dark sky opened and light poured in. The creatures of shadow vanished and the sun shone upon them. The clouds parted and a ray of light shined across the Man. The Man smiled, letting out his last breath in the light after seeing only the darkness for so long.


	4. Valus

The Shaman found tomes within the temple of a Demon called Dormin who had control over life and death. The Gods sealed him within the Blessed Lands and if Dormin ever broke out of his seals the Colossi would keep him contained within the lands.

After Dormin was released, the Shaman cast a spell upon his sword and sealed it underneath the temple. The keys to that segment of the temple were scattered across the land haphazardly so that nobody could touch that corrupted sword again. Dormin was kept within the Sword of Light however it seemed like he wouldn’t be kept there for long. The sword was slowly getting heavier unable to bear the weight of Dormin and the blade slowly became darker and darker unable to gather light like it once used to. The Shaman placed the sword in the pure water of the temple but even that wouldn’t be able to contain Dormin for much longer.

Emon declared that they must be able to seal Dormin away and the Shaman agreed. But the question was how? The Man told them that Dormin’s spirit should not be kept close together and if they sealed his spirit within a human they would find each other and Dormin would be unleashed upon this world again.

It was after two nights the answer finally came upon Emon. The Guardians. They would seal Dormin within the Guardians and engineer methods by which to prevent the Guardians from coming close to each other. There were already a few Guardians bound to their respective cities. Avion was bound by a giant wall and sheer mountains. Kuromori was trapped within the arena built by the people to challenge it. Only a few needed to be kept confined. Quadratus had to be sealed within the caves, Gaius had to be immobilized for he was seen wandering the lands and Phalanx who could wander the lands at his own volition. The sealing would have to be done quickly and in places far out the reach of a normal man.

Emon consulted the Elders. They decreed that the people would have to be evacuated for nobody knew what would happen to the Guardians once Dormin’s essence was placed within them. Emon agreed. He sent the army to evacuate the people and gathered a group of the best Shaman to carry out the ritual. A seal was placed on the Sword to prevent Dormin’s spirit from merging and overwhelming the Guardian.

Emon and the Shaman rode upon their horses to the mountainside where Valus roamed.

…

Valus was found when Emon sent out the scouts to map out the land. After a long period of mourning for his lost father and orientation for Emon to be the next Chief his first command was to scout the land, scour every cave and scale every mountain and report what they had found.

Through hawks Emon had been told tales of large stretches of desert, a dense rainforest and large lakes. The scouts sent messages about the Colossi that roamed the lands using their hawks. the men avoided them, instead deciding to sketch them and send them to Emon.

A few days after the command his scouts had scaled a mountain just south of the temple. They had witnessed a Colossus holding a weapon and soon the scouts reported back to him.

It was the closest Colossi and Emon wanted to see one of the beasts with his own eyes. So he and a few of the Shaman headed to the mountain to see the Colossi face to face.

After a tough climb upwards Emon and his men finally reached the top and there they felt the earth shake beneath him, almost making him and his men trip on their feet. It was then Emon saw his second Colossus ever since he entered the land.

A beast not of flesh, not of stone but of both that stood on two legs holding a mallet in his left hand, the purpose of which Emon did not know. Large tufts of hair grew on the back of his leg, back and head. The beast trudged on ahead showing no hint of emotion in his impassive blue eyes

Emon and his men observed the beast, analyzing his behavior. It seemed the beast kept walking back and forth across the valley until night finally set where the beast would finally sit as the moon shone upon his stone body. The following day Emon and his men stalked the beast, careful not to make a sound. When the beast turned and noticed them, Emon’s men fled all except Emon who by some compulsion walked towards him. His men beckoned at him to head back but Emon did not heed their warnings. As the beast trudged towards Emon in his earth shaking strides, Emon walked towards him his steps like that of a fly compared to the majestic beast.

The beast and Emon finally stood, the beast glancing down at Emon. His men behind him had their bows drawn and were about to fire but Emon told them to hold their fire. The beast knelt down towards Emon which stunned him. Surely it was Emon who should be kneeling to a creature so majestic. Emon stared directly into the beast’s stone mask and its swirling blue eyes like an icy river.

The beast opened his palm to him as if beckoning Emon to climb. Emon stepped atop his palm. The beast raised his palm upwards towards his head. There was a pause for Emon did not understand what had just happened. The beast shook his head as if he was beckoning Emon. Emon took a step atop his head and the beast started walking. Emon had his breath stolen away. Hall’s and eagles circled him, his men seemed like ants from atop the majestic beast. The valley below him was laid bare, devoid of all its mysteries. It was the first time Emon had smiled so brightly ever since the death of his father.

They soon learnt the beast’s name was Valus. The first of 16 Guardians that roamed this land. Valus was very popular amongst the children. Overtime they built platforms atop his back in order for the children to climb atop him. Many children would scale the mountain together just to see Valus. Valus would let them climb him for he found great joy in the company of men but even greater joy in the company of children.

It pained Emon to see Valus bowing down to him again, the same way he had when they had first met. Emon did one last round with him, standing atop the majestic beast. When Valus stopped he drew the seal atop his head, where no man could reach and finally Emon plunged the sword onto into the seal.

Valus moaned in pain, his body writhing. Valus let out a roar as dark tendrils spread across his body. Emon was hanging on by the hilt of the sword. Valus suddenly stopped, his blazing orange eyes had disappeared. Emon noticed darkness quickly starting to shroud his body and pulled the sword out as quickly as possible. Valus was hunched over like an elder, fingers loosely held around his club, this allowed Emon to hop down the Guardian.

Two Shaman had their arrows nicked, ready to fire at Valus if he moved. Emon sheathed the sword and limped away from Valus’s body when suddenly he heard a sound like gravel tumbling down a mountain. One of his Shaman let out a scream as he was swatted aside like a fly. Some of the soldiers Emon had gathered in his army started firing a volley of arrows but it didn’t seem to faze the Guardian. The soldiers were squashed under the force of Valus’s club.

While the soldiers were firing arrows at Valus, Emon and a few of the Shaman started to fall back. The soldiers started firing at Valus, slowly backing off.

Finally, they reached the edge of the cliff, Emon let the Shaman go first before turning around to witness Valus’s rage. He stomped on some of the soldiers whilst swiping others with his hand. Others were knocked aside with his club. Before he climbed down the cliff Emon remembered the day he had first met him, How Valus had eased Emon’s grief. He gave one sad look at the Guardian, nay the Colossus before he climbed down the cliff never to see the beast again.


	5. Quadratus

The next seal was to be placed on the Guardian by the beachside, Quadratus. The Widower smiled, the name brought back memories of the day of his marriage.

It felt like centuries ago when he had first met her. It was when they were children playing in the meadow where their old tribe once was, before the Queen started her violent purges. He was only seven back then but he was awestruck by her beauty. He used to forsake his friends just for a chance to talk to her which led to many petty disputes that didn’t matter to him in the slightest. All that mattered was her and most importantly of all, her smile. He would lay at night praying to the Gods to marry her, praying that hopefully she felt the same.

His prayer was answered for during the pilgrimage to the Blessed Lands, when they were both blooming into adulthood she huddled next to him by the campsites, always looking for an opportunity to spend time with him whenever the Tribe decided to rest.

They married soon after, when the Tribe finally settled within the lands.

A marriage ritual amongst the Tribe was the scaling of Quadratus. It required two in union to reach the top of the great beast where they would enjoy the view of the beachside. He remembered carrying her so she could grab the tufts of fur on Quadratus’s leg and her holding out her delicate hand for him to grab on as they climbed the Guardian together, laughing and joking as they reached the top. He remembered the moon casting a silver light across the lake as his wife rest her head on his shoulders, her peaceful face prettier than the moon itself.

However, this happiness was not to last.

The demon Dormin was unleashed upon the lands by a vile man who murdered innocents to achieve his selfish ends. Disease and death plagued the lands and unfortunately his wife fell victim to both. The disease not only affected her but their unborn child as well. She was on death’s door when the Sword was forged. He prayed day and night, day and night for her recovery offering sacrifices to the Gods just so he could see his love smiling again. On the day Emon called an army to face Dormin, they had declared their love for each other for the last time. When he came back from the war, she was gone, the disease had taken them. However, on her deathbed, his love was smiling. The same smile that reminded him of the first time they met under the meadow.

He didn’t know what scared him more, accepting the fact that they were gone or that slowly the Gods became nothing but folk tales to the disillusioned Shaman.

The battalion galloped on, their numbers slightly less after the battle with Valus but nonetheless they had many.

The Widower looked down at his horse. A horse of chestnut colour that he and his wife raised when it was a mere cub. It was the only living reminder of his wife and the life he had before the monster took it away from him.

They galloped down to the beachside where Quadratus roamed.

Many of the blacksmiths had been working together on a stone barrier to keep Quadratus trapped within the cave once Dormin was sealed within Quadratus they would lure the Guardian inside and seal him within.

Quadratus was staring out at the lake in front of him as if he was confused as to why there were no more couples climbing atop his back, laughing and kissing. Why they were no more couples coming here to get their children’s blessed by the Guardian. The Guardian turned to face them, tilting his head curiously. Emon got off his horse, ready to begin the sealing but The Widower stopped him. He told his Chief that he needed rest and that he should allow him to carry out the task for him. Chief Emon looked like he wanted to argue but he decided against it. He gave The Widower the Ancient Sword and climbed atop his pure white steed and commanded his army to ready their bows.

The Widower removed his mask. It seemed as if the Guardian recognised him for he put his leg down as if he knew that he had lost his lover. The Widower climbed, finally reaching the top of the Guardian. Quadratus walked toward the coast allowing The Widower one last view of the beachside. He remembered their kiss, remembered tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, remembered her beautiful chestnut eyes and delicate features. He remembered her smile. He remembered her smile when she found out she was pregnant. He remembered her smile when he said I love you for the last time. And it was the last time for she was long gone, her spirit kept under the watchful eyes of the Gods.

The Elders decreed that two seals would be placed on Quadratus. One on his back, the other on his head so that the corruption wouldn’t happen as quickly as it had on Valus.

The Widower drew the seals and finally he plunged the sword.

Quadratus was forced onto his knees, The Widower quickly hopped off of him and onto his horse. He gave the sword to their Chief and readied his bow for when Quadratus awakened.

It didn’t take long. Quadratus let out a powerful roar and standing on his hind legs he crushed the men who stood in front of him. A group of Shaman led Emon off, away from the raging Guardian.

Meanwhile The Widower and a group of Shaman let out volley after volley of arrows. A few of the Shaman tried leading Quadratus into his cave using the explosive arrows that the blacksmiths had developed but Quadratus was unfazed by them, choosing instead to stomp the few unfortunate Shaman that stood in front of him.

Soon there were but a meagre few Shaman left. Most had been crushed by the Guardian, the others had fled the scene. The blacksmiths were still by the stone barrier, unable to seal it. Somebody had to lead the Guardian into the cave.

The Widower commanded the remaining Shaman to leave. They fled from the coast until it was only The Widower and the Guardian left. The Widower nocked the explosive arrow and waited.

The Guardian turned to face him, his orange eyes blazing with rage. He released the arrow and fired. The arrow hit one of Quadratus’s horns causing it to crumble into bits of debris. Quadratus let out an ear shattering bellow of pain. The Guardian looked angrier now, he started taking larger strides causing the earth to shake beneath the Widower’s feet. The Widower shot another arrow and galloped into the cave. The Guardian followed after him, it’s eyes burning with fury.

As The Widower went deeper in the cave he could feel dust falling atop him. The beast was getting near. The Guardian got off his horse, petting his mane before he slapped it in the back and watched it go off. It was the last trace of his wife and he let it go.

He didn’t need to hear the footsteps of the Guardian for the earth shook beneath his very feet. Though The Widower could not call it a Guardian no more nor was it a mere beast.

The Widower stood in front of a Colossus.


	6. Gaius

The third Guardian was Gaius who patrolled the land before coming to rest atop a platform atop a lake. The plan was to draw the seals and keep him atop the platform by casting a spell on him that caused him to sleep eternally until somebody were to disturb his slumber. This allowed for more convenience as Gaius was one of the few Guardians who didn’t take to humans kindly. Many were advised to avoid him on his patrol around the lands for he was one of the few Guardians with a weapon and the will to use it against humans. Emon was afraid of what the darkness would do to him.

By Gaius’s place of rest, they were soldiers who were given explosives to destroy the platform as a contingency for when Gaius woke so that he may not roam the land and find his brethren. A few Shaman were appointed to follow the Guardian while Emon and a few soldiers waited atop the platform.

Soon the platform they stood upon started shaking. Gaius had finished his patrol. However, it seemed as if he was not doing so well. Bits of his armour had been torn off exposing his scrawny body underneath. Gaius used to have two swords but it looked the left one was destroyed as only a stump remained. It seemed the battle against Dormin did not do Gaius any favours. Gaius climbed up the stairway to his platform. Emon and his men braced themselves, their arms tense on their bowstrings ready to fire at Emon’s command. The Shaman started reciting the sleeping spell. When Gaius finally reached the top of the platform his eyes turned from an impassive blue to a raging orange. The Guardian raised his great weapon but before he could he was hit by a volley of arrows. It seemed they could not place the seal on Gaius until he was put to rest. Emon commanded the soldiers to defend the Shaman until they had cast the spell. The soldiers led the Shaman underneath the platform where they would continue reciting their spell. Meanwhile Emon and the other soldiers were trying to slow the Guardian down using the arrows the blacksmiths had forged. Some of the blacksmiths who had sealed Quadratus told of a tale of how one brave Shaman had destroyed one of the horns of the great beast. Emon hoped that the arrows would do the same to Gaius’s armour but unfortunately only a few pieces of stone fell on the ground. Gaius had killed some of their men, either by stepping on them or they were crushed underneath the might of his sword. Emon tried using the sword to climb atop Gaius in order to draw the seals but before he could Gaius shook his sword and Emon fell to the ground. Emon was under the shadow of Gaius’s blade when one of the soldiers dragged him out of the way and the blade struck solid ground.

Emon thanked the soldier before heading to the groove at the edge of the platform where the Shaman were preparing the spell. The Shaman told him they were done and handed him an arrow with a glowing blue tip. The Shaman told Emon that he had to strike the Guardian’s flesh in order for the spell to work. Emon pulled out his bow and nocked the arrow carefully aiming for the exposed belly of the Guardian. The Guardian was twisting and turning, trying to stomp on the soldiers that stood in its way.

Emon sheathed the sleep arrow and fired the explosive one which attracted the Guardian’s attention. As the Guardian stomped towards him Emon took a breath and nocked the sleeping arrow and fired.

The arrow struck its belly. The Guardian limped and stumbled before finally keeling over onto his knees. In all his years in the Land, Emon had never seen Gaius kneel. Emon then proceeded to carry out drawing the seal. He drew one on Gaius’s belly for he felt as if it would be hard to reach. Emon then plunged the sword onto the seal. His men were tense, they had lost many when the Guardians were corrupted by Dormin’s darkness however this time Gaius did not wake and wreak havoc amongst their men.

They left the platform, tired and dreary. After losing so many Emon could see that their morale was slowly plummeting. But the deed had to be done, they had to seal Dormin so that their people wouldn’t suffer the same fate again.

At the command of a soldier, the explosives were set off. The pathway to the Guardian sunk into the sea. The wandering Colossus would rest until someone foolish would enter these Forbidden Lands and awaken him, till then the beast remained in a deep slumber.


	7. Phaedra

The Gravekeeper continued his rounds through the graveyard accompanied by the Guardian Phaedra. After the Demon corrupted many of the wandering spirits that roamed the graveyard it was up to the Gravekeeper to cleanse them. This had been his duty ever since his people set foot on these lands.

It was him that found the Guardian Phaedra amongst the large grassy mounds. It soon became clear to him and his men that they were standing amongst the dead. The graves of the tribes before who had roamed this land and laid bare its mysteries to the tribes that came after. And it seemed the Guardian Phaedra was in charge of the transition from death to the life beyond.

Before the Guardian, The Gravekeeper was a man obsessed with wealth and status. He wanted to be an advisor to the Chief for being Chief of the tribe was denied to him at birth. He wanted the finest cattle, a mate with the highest status and the most majestic steed to hunt on in the plains for only those high up had access to the best steeds.

After the Guardian, he was only known as the Gravekeeper. For the Guardian could sense disrespect. His men went searching through the graves for the wealth and silk garments that were buried with the dead, only he came out.

After seeing his men die so suddenly, buried under the rubble of the Guardian’s might he realised that wealth and status were nothing but petty distractions. They were the wrong answer to giving life meaning for the only thing that could give life meaning was death.

From then The Gravekeeper helped with the passing of spirits. He helped those who mourned alongside the Guardian whose sheer presence helped assure them that the spirits of their loved one were in safe hands. Especially one Man who he had seen bury his wife, holding a new-born baby in his arms and one of the Shaman who had lost both his son and wife to the powerful corruption of the Demon which had led many pure spirits astray.

In helping people with their grief the man had found something he didn’t find chasing after wealth and status for himself and that was contentment. For if The Gravekeeper were to die right now he would die without fear.

After the Demon’s corruption had desecrated the land The Gravekeeper had received word from one of the messengers that the Demon would be sealed within the Guardian and that the people would be deserting the city forever. The Gravekeeper was outraged, what of the spirits that roamed the graves? If they sealed the Demon within the Guardian, they would be corrupted for Phaedra watched over the Spirits and The Gravekeeper had seen how the Demon corrupted the spirits and turned them to beasts that did his bidding.

The Gravekeeper was ready to stand his ground and chase Chief Emon away if he had to. There was no away he’d allow for the Guardian to be corrupted.

A few days later he heard the hooves of horses. Emon was leading the fray, his face pale and his body slouched. Behind him was an army of grey faced soldiers and Shaman carrying the corpses of their comrades atop the back of their horses.

…

When the Gravekeeper emerged from the rubble the Guardian was waiting for him. His eyes turned from an enraged orange to a calm blue.  He turned as if beckoning the Gravekeeper forward. He had no choice but to follow.

The Guardian led him to another mound. The Guardian stood by the side of the mound. The Gravekeeper felt as if the Guardian intended to bury him there but he sensed no ill intent. He walked to the entrance of the mound, carefully eyeing the Guardian. What he was greeted by were scriptures, countless tomes of knowledge about the spirits that roamed the graves and how to commune with them. The Gravekeeper heard some rumbling outside and saw the Guardian’s blue eyes staring at him from the outside as if beckoning him on to read.

From then on the man obsessed with wealth and status became a humble man who tended to the graves. A man known in the physical world as the Gravekeeper and by the spirits as the one who guided them to the afterlife.

…

After the burial of the soldiers and the brave Shaman who had offered their lives there was much fierce debate between the Gravekeeper and Emon. Emon believed that he had to seal Dormin within the Guardian, that it was the only path to salvation however the Gravekeeper ferociously objected to his ideals stating that if the Guardian were to be corrupted, Dormin would only grow stronger as he had power over the dead.

Realising that there could be no compromise Emon sighed, stating that he would find another way and would leave by morning. The Gravekeeper agreed. Emon and a few of the Shaman carried out the burial procedure under the supervision of The Gravekeeper who guided the spirits of those who had passed to their rightful place. He purified some who had corruption in their hearts, many of whom had been soldiers who had desecrated the beasts of this land with their ferocious weaponry. After his task the Gravekeeper returned to his cabin, the Guardian wailing in the distance.

…

That night the Gravekeeper pondered about his life. From a power-obsessed man to a humble person who tended to the spirits of those who had passed. First he had viewed the Guardian as a monster, a terrifying being whose power was only matched by those of the Gods. Overtime the Gravekeeper realised that this was not the case for after climbing up its stone armour and feeling the skin underneath its tufts of fur, The Gravekeeper realised that these Guardians were just as vulnerable as his fellow men. The Gravekeeper would be lying if his debate wasn’t fuelled by emotion as he had grown quite attached to the Guardian as they tended the graves together and guided the spirits that were lost. The Gravekeeper closed his eyes, dreaming about the times he climbed atop the Guardian, the graves below him like anthills, the air around him pure. Death seemed as insignificant as an ant for in that one moment the Gravekeeper felt invincible.

The Gravekeeper never opened his eyes again.

…

It had to be done, Emon told himself. It had to done. If they didn’t seal Dormin within the Guardian who knew what horrors he would unleash upon the world. It was the only way, or so he told himself.

But still it pained his heart to see the Colossus wail amidst the graves of the Ancients, as if mourning the loss of a friend.

 


	8. Avion

The Guardian in the City of Sin represented freedom within a place of corruption. It was tragic, really how a bird was not confined by an artificial prison but rather the forces of nature. The City of Sin was surrounded by large mountains that cast a menacing shadow upon the lake the city was built upon. The Guardian Avion was trapped underneath the mountain, flapping its majestic wings casting a shadow upon the lake.

The scouts first found the Guardian after much exploration. They found the Guardian, much more unique than the others. This one had wings and the flapping of its wings cast a powerful gust of wind that caused ripples upon the lake. They could feel the strength of its wings from the way they flapped like the waves of the ocean. The Guardian was also despite the powerful flaps of its ginormous wings.

Soon as the people explored everything the lands had to offer, they started to build. They built settlements all around the Lands. Farms, forges, army barracks. Slowly the Lands were not that of the Gods but of the people. And within all that development came the City of Sin.

A city built by the merchants, many of the buildings within it reached the length of the mountains and the mansions were as vast as the Temple. In between the city was a tower where the Guardian perched after soaring above the city.

Unfortunately, the city was built upon the backs of slaves. Countless of poor people were killed in accidents to build this city. Countless more were killed to build the mansions of the rich. How apt for a city run by merchants. Many of the inhabitants adorned themselves in the finest of garments made by starving seamstresses. They ate delicious food grown and reared by peasant farmers and indulged in mindless fornication with women that sold their bodies. The city slowly grew more and more corrupt that the skies above it darkened and murder was second nature to its inhabitants. All the while the Guardian watched impassively from atop its tower, serving justice to those who took the life of their fellow man.

The city was empty now. Many of the people long since evacuated. The Guardian standing atop his perch, as graceful as ever.

It was two young Shaman that offered to carry out the sealing. Emon wondered how they managed to look so fresh-faced and eager despite the deaths of their fellow men. Emon soon realised that these boys believed in him, believed in their Chief despite him not believing in himself. After what he had done, how could he?

The Chief unsheathed the ancient sword and handed it to the youths, all the while the chief pondered. He wondered if the Gods would forgive him for what he had done. No matter how many times he told himself what he was doing was for the right cause he couldn’t shake the guilt that plagued his heart. Emon laughed to himself. Did he even have a heart? Especially after what he had done was done in cold blood.

The youths placed the seals on the Guardian’s wings and tail. That was a good choice for if a foolish man ever decided to unleash the Demon upon this world again he would have a hard time destroying those seals. Emon commanded men to be ready at the top of the buildings to slow down the Guardian once Dormin had been sealed within it.

The two youths were grabbing hold of the Guardian’s wings. One of them plunged the sword into the Guardian.

The Guardian’s eyes turned a bright orange. As darkness shrouded its body the Guardian trashed, knocking aside the buildings turning them into mere rubble. Arrow upon arrow was fired onto the Guardian but it did nothing to it for the Guardian was like steel. All the arrows did was make the Guardian more agitated. Many of the archers were knocked down as the buildings were crushed to dust being wrapped in the lake’s icy tendrils. One of the soldiers grabbed Emon’s shoulders telling him that they had to move.

Before Emon left he saw the floating corpse of one of the youths, his body pale, his face permanently frozen in an expression of fear.

He turned to see the Colossus. What used to be a symbol of freedom in a city trapped by their own desires was now a prison of a great monster.

And the City of Sin? The City of Sin was consumed by the lake that it was built upon.


	9. Barba

The sixth Guardian could be found by the desert. This was where the prison was located. And within that prison was the judge, Barba. The people did not know why but this Guardian had the ability to sense the sins of man. When a guilty man stood in front of him, his eyes glowed orange and Barba was consumed by rage. For that reason alone, the people locked him behind a stone wall. However, if the crime was something so vile they would let the Guardian deal with the transgressor.

Emon felt like someone was tying knots in his stomach. For he had committed a crime, a crime most heinous. And as he wandered through the land he realised that all of his justifications only amounted to a thin veil over the truth. And the truth was that he had taken an innocent man’s life.

The army emerged by the staircase. They appointed a few of the Shaman to take care of the horses and navigated down the stairs to the lair of the Judge.

The Scouts found the Guardian under a cave. Stroking his beard and seemingly contemplating. Despite the Scouts encroaching upon its territory, the Guardian did not mind. He just sat there, unwavering.

Legends has it that there was a prison convoy that had stopped by the cave for they sensed a sandstorm in the air. Witnesses say that as soon as the Guardian saw the convicts his eyes blazed with an orange glow and he crushed the leader of the caravan under its boulder sized fists despite his father being the one who was murdered. After the deed was done the Guardian returned to its resting position, its eyes returning to its impassive blue. The Guards did not sleep a wink that night, eyeing the Guardian lest he decided to kill them all while they were asleep. It was soon discovered the man the Guardian killed was in fact the perpetrator. He had murdered his father over inheritance thus saving an innocent man from execution. Soon the Tribe decreed the Guardian as their judge and built an underground court within the caves where the Guardian was kept confined behind a stone wall until the day of the tribunal where the committer of the crime would be held in front of the Guardian and he would crush them as justice for the sins that they had committed.

The gate slowly opened revealing the Guardian. Two of the Shaman were stationed atop the gate so when the Guardian stepped forth and scanned the crowd they leapt atop him. They were to place two seals. They drew the seals and were about to plunge the sword when the Guardian faced Emon.

And his eyes turned orange.

The Guardian stomped towards Emon. One of the Shaman stumbled and fell with a sickening crack. The other held on tightly, sword in hand. The archers tried firing at the beast but they were reduced to naught as the Guardian stepped atop them. The Guardian stood in front of Emon raising his fist but a brave man pushed Emon out of the way and the man was no more. Another pulled Emon up and started firing the arrows. All this life and for what? Why were these men so loyal to their Chief even though he was a murderer? The mission could still go on without him yet these men put aside their lives for him even though they had loved ones waiting for them outside these lands.

The mission was to lead the Guardian towards its confine and seal the demon within it. The Guardian was originally going to survey the army and realising they were innocent return to its confines where the sealing was to take place. Unfortunately, they didn’t account for the fact that their beloved Chief was a murderer.

Emon knew what must be done.

Emon dashed towards the Guardian’s confines, the Guardian stomped behind him. As he was enveloped by the dark arms of the Guardian’s prison. The door started to close slowly, The Guardian crouched underneath ready to finish what he had started. He raised his fist. Emon noticed the Shaman still clutching onto the Guardian for dear life. He plunged the sword into the seal. Darkness shrouded the Guardian, slowly corrupting it as the Guardian writhed in pain. For once Emon was content. After the gate would close he would be alone and finally face atonement for his sins.

But as fate would have it Emon would not get what he wanted.

A soldier appeared and shoved Emon out of the cave. The Shaman threw the Sword of Light at Emon before the Colossus plucked him out of his hair and tossed him against the wall. The Colossus was about to crush Emon but the gate closed and Emon’s redemption was sealed away from him.

And his men, his men cheered. Commending his bravery. Praising the man who had murdered the Gravekeeper.


	10. Hydrus

The lake at the edge of a desert was an oasis for many for within that lake lay an abundance of life, of various fish and sea creatures that provided sustenance for the Tribe. However, there were times when the lake was barren, its produce scarce especially during the times when the weather was bitter and cold. One year, the fishermen and their families were starving. The food they had imported had been running out and many had died, including the young. It seemed the fishermen of the Tribe would be no more. The leader of the village prayed to the Gods, crying and on his knees. Praying that his people would be saved.

The next morning, when they went to sail they saw the corpses of fish casting a black shadow across the lake. Upon further inspection they saw that the corpses were sizzled, as if they had just been cooked for consumption. The villagers didn’t care however. The Gods had answered their prayer.

They were, however a meagre few who wondered how something so logically impossible could occur so they built a tower to observe the lake. They observed day and night, when the moon cast its silver light across the lake and when the morning sun made the lake look a mirror reflecting the glory of the morning. A breakthrough came at the late hours of the night when one of the observers noticed an orange glow permeating the dark depths of the lake and a wailing sound that echoed in the night.

That wasn’t the last of the sightings.

One fisherman who was out sailing in the dark and he saw a tail made of stone ascend from within the lake. Below him, an orange glow blazed to life and as quickly as it had appeared, the glow disappeared.

The mystery was never pursued any further for during times of struggle, the head of the village would pray and the remains of fish would float on the empty lake. The Shaman knew this was the work of a Guardian.

And so, day after day the people found the bodies of fish until the day Emon came to carry out the sealing.

That day, Emon saw the corpses of his men floating on the lake. He stared down to see the sword washing up at shore, the colossus wailing in the distance.


	11. Kuromori

Once upon a time there was an orphan. At a young age the orphan learned that the only person he could rely on was himself so the orphan learned to steal. He was caught a few times, beaten by the guards, almost being stomped by the Guardian but the orphan survived with only a few bruises and scars, he would do anything to survive.

Then there was one day where the orphan made a mistake. A mistake that cost him his life. He wasn’t killed but after what had been done to him he might as well have already been dead.

The orphan stole from the General and he thought he had gotten away with it but the General caught him red handed. He expected torture or maybe even death but unfortunately the fate he received was even worse for you see the army had started to build an arena around a Guardian where they could deal with criminals and vile scum that was sent to them.

Every day the orphan was led by the guards through the claustrophobic hallways to face off against a beast made of stone for the entertainment of the rich and famous. The orphan knew the beast was a Guardian and while he wasn’t very religious, he knew the soldiers were desecrating something sacred. Despite the objections from the temple the soldiers still remained unyielding as ever. Many criminals were not sent to the court of Barba but rather the arena where they would partake in an exercise where they would try to expose the belly of the Guardian and whoever did it first would get prizes in the form of better living quarters and if the soldiers were feeling merciful better meals. Men would shove, manipulate, backstab and even kill for the opportunity to expose the Guardian. And the Guardian? Once free to roam the oasis in the caves was now confined in an arena with people screaming at the top of their lungs and arrows and blades being shot into its legs and ropes being used to yank it off the walls all the while it tried to scale the walls, yearning for its freedom. Overtime the orphan realised the Guardian was just like the gladiators themselves, yearning for a freedom that was impossible due to the corrupt hands of humans. Gladiators did battle against the Guardian who passionately tried to escape their bloodthirsty hands until one day. On this fateful day the Guardian was awfully still, it wasn’t clambering up the walls for freedom. No, the Guardian was still. Its eyes no more blazed orange in fear but rather it was an impassive blue. Its eyes suddenly burned orange and from its mouth emerged balls of light that reduced a man to nothing but a splat of blood. The ball of light fizzled out and turned to a hazy green gas that melted anyone who touched it. The orphan went to great lengths to avoid it, begging the guards to let him and his fellow gladiators out but they did nothing. Neither did the people. Rather than helping these people they cheered, letting out passionate roars of praise and cheer as piles of corpses fell around the orphan.

At the end of the Guardian’s massacre the orphan had still survived. However, the orphan boy was no more a boy but a man, and he was no more an orphan but a gladiator.

…

After the death of the General many of the prisoners were set free, after all many of them were innocent or unfortunate victims of circumstance. The gladiator was given an opportunity to join Emon’s army and was specially chosen for the mission to seal Dormin within the Guardians. The gladiator scoffed, overtime the Guardian grew to hate humans and the gladiator couldn’t blame the Guardian. They both had their freedom taken away from them by the very same humans. What other animal had the power of promising freedom and stealing it away from their own brethren? The Gladiator found it funny how many of his fellow soldiers were following their Chief like a starving dog that had just been fed. And much like dogs they still loved their owner despite being sent to their deaths. It seemed these deaths were taking a toll on their Chief too for he no more gave those energetic speeches after they finished the sealing.

They arrived at the caves where the arena was located, a beautiful oasis where majestic waterfalls cascaded towards a pure blue pond where you could see fish swimming. The grass was a beautiful emerald green, a stark contrast to the charcoal black building that stood in the middle of this wonderful oasis.

They entered the building, navigating the stone hallways that the gladiator was familiar with until they finally emerged into the light. The stone railings were still there although many were destroyed, the work of the Guardian. The Guardian reduced some of the arena to rubble as there was the occasional jagged edge as they navigated down the staircases of the arena. The gladiator found it very nostalgic to see the Guardian hanging on the walls. The gladiator warned the army that they should not attract the Guardian’s attention. Some of the Shaman were sent to where the Guardian was clinging on to draw the seals. Meanwhile the soldiers were at the bottom with their bows, ready to aim at the Guardian’s legs where once the Guardian landed, the men would plunge the sword within the seals and immediately evacuate.

What they didn’t expect was the Guardian’s sudden awakening.

…

Once upon a time there was a gladiator.

The gladiator alongside many others was tasked with exposing the belly of a massive stone Guardian to a crowd of excited spectators. Many of them had done so using bows, ropes and even swords. All of them except this one. No matter how hard he tried this gladiator could not get the Guardian to show its weakness even after the arena was closed and its gladiators freed.

However, one day this was all to change for you see the gladiator had joined an army, a special army tasked with a very important task. This army had invoked the wrath of the Guardian who started firing big balls of light at them from atop his place on the walls. Nobody could reach the Guardian and nobody could get the Guardian to fall. The gladiator noticed a bow by his feet and he picked up two of the arrows that the army had left. The gladiator took a breath and fired.

The first arrow struck the Guardian’s left leg, causing him to waver. The second struck its right and the Guardian landed with a big fall.

The gladiator climbed atop his belly, shouting for a sword because at any moment the Guardian could turn over and he would be crushed.

The gladiator got the sword just in a nick of time as the Guardian finally turned over but by that time the deed was done, the sword had been plunged within the seal.

And the gladiator? Unfortunately, the tale did not end well for our fellow gladiator. The warrior was crushed underneath the Colossus’s weight, still holding the sword in his hand. At long last, the Gladiator achieved what was considered a victory in the life that was stolen from him, not by the Guardian but by man.

The End.


	12. Basaran

Basaran rested in his cave and he would remain there for the rest of this world’s existence. The Demon had taken everything away from him. Once a land of lush greens and clear ponds now reduced to a black smog and violent geysers erupting from beneath.

The lands he used to occupy were so bountiful. Scrumptious fruits grew on the trees and large fish roamed the ponds. New parents used to emerge from their tribes and remain in Basaran’s land for a month to carry out the childbirth ritual. New mothers would give birth here with the assistance of nurses. If the baby was a boy he would be circumcised. On the first day the father would recite words from their scriptures into the baby’s ears quietly. On the second the baby would be fed fruit from the land and on the third the baby would sip from the ponds. The mother would remain here, resting and recovering enjoying fruits that were handpicked by the fathers and water with herbs that could only be found in these lands that would help with the recovery.

If a mother happened to die giving birth the people would bury her in this land whilst Basaran watched. Basaran had a great respect for these women for in giving the gift of life to their children they had succumbed to death. The women would carry out the ritual whilst the father mourned and if the father felt that he could not take care of the child himself the women offered to assist in taking care of the child whilst the father was away.

And so, life continued in these lands until that man had done a disgusting act and killed a baby, thereby unleashing an evil onto this world. An evil that the Guardians had been created to defeat. An evil that the Guardians had been made to protect the humans from.

Though as Basaran saw the demon murdering countless of the denizens of his land, slaughtering innocent men, women and children alike. A demon that a human had summoned, the very same creature that he was created to protect Basaran couldn’t help but ponder that maybe the humans weren’t worth protecting at all.

And you wouldn’t be wrong to say that maybe Basaran was right.

For when Emon and his army came, Basaran could sense the Demon within the blade. Basaran could not help but reel back, his eyes blazing orange with fear. Still the humans continued their march. Basaran launched volleys of divine lightning at them, killing countless but still the humans continued their march. He could feel some of them atop his back, he tried shaking them off. He had heard one hit the walls of the cave he had occupied with a sickening crack but still the humans continued their march. He could feel the seal being draw into his head, Basaran wailed in agony trying to convince them to stop but still the humans continued their march.

And then the sword was plunged into his head.

Basaran embraced the sweet release as the will of Dormin overpowered his own. Basaran would gladly accept this fate for whatever actions he did, whatever vile atrocities he committed, it would be Dormin’s will and not his.

But Basaran did not have that confirmation either.

For when Basaran awoke he was still alive however his body was not his, Dormin controlled him entirely. And that wasn’t the end of it.

For the rest of his days alive Basaran would forever relive the day Dormin had been released onto this world, he would see Dormin murdering the people that roamed Basaran’s lands, killing them and corrupting their souls. And the worst part of it all, it would be as if it was Basaran who slaughtered these people. The very same people he had sworn to protect.


	13. Dirge

Towards the west of the shrine there was a cave. A group of scouts were sent there and they were never seen                                                                                                                                                                                                again. Many thought they were the Queen’s spies and soon the Queen’s forces would overrun this land and kill them all.

But ten years had passed and the Queen never came which begged the question. Just what had happened to those scouts?

They sent the army to investigate. Only one survived. The   soldier told the people that the earth had moved, swallowing the soldiers. People thought him mad.

However, those same people would be proved wrong. When a group of unruly kids had made their way to the cave, two of them had met the same fate as the scouts and soldiers. One had survived and he told of a serpent made of stone who swam through the sand as easily as a fish swam through a lake. Nobody believed him but the Shaman who decreed that this was one of the sixteen Guardians that roamed the land but it begged the question. If the Guardians were created to protect the humans than why did this one slaughter them?

The answer was simple.

It was hungry.

The Shaman cordoned off the cave, forbidding anyone from entering if they valued their lives. A few Shaman were sent to investigate with one of them reporting their findings. It was found that the Guardian swam in the sands faster than a man could run so the Shaman went on horseback.

They had lost their horses but it seemed that they could outrun the Guardian if only barely. With this more observations could be made. The Shaman found that when the Guardian chose to surface, it’s blazing orange eyes were visible. Upon further investigation they found that shooting the Guardian in the eye would disorient it and on very rare occasions the Guardian would hit the walls of the cave allowing for the Shaman to escape.

Emon read through the reports before the sealing of Dirge, eager to make sure that not a single life was lost. Many of the other deaths were due to lack of information and good planning but now, now Emon could avoid the deaths of his fellow people.

The evacuation was going smoothly. Only a few people remained. A select few Blacksmiths, a few merchants unaware of the news and many stubborn people who could not part with their belongings. There was still Seidon and his cult who worshipped the Guardian but Emon would deal with him once the opportunity arose.

The mission was simple. Two archers on horseback would lure the Guardian, firing into its eyes. Once the Guardian had bumped into the wall, Emon and his men would rush in to draw the seal and plunge the sword within the Guardian. If the Guardian moved, they would quickly leap back onto their horse and flee the area until the archers managed to shoot the Guardian again. This was only a seven-man job. Emon would be accompanied by 4 other Shaman and 2 archers. There would be four more archers on the outskirts of the cave who in case of the death of one of the archers they would rush in to take their place. Emon hoped that that would not be the case. The rest of the army would find the other Guardians and report their findings to Emon or the new General if Emon did not survive.

And so Emon and his men were off.

…

As they entered the cave they were greeted by an eerie silence. Their horses descended into the cave, their hooves clattering nervously against the stone. As they descended, they reached a lake of sand with light shining through and three stone pillars protruding from the sand.

The horses’ hooves sunk in the sand, leaving behind prints. The shaman scattered to the walls whilst the archers galloped towards the middle. Emon joined the Shaman, waiting for the Guardian to appear.

The archers were in the middle of the stone pillars, raising their hands to signal that they were in position. The Shaman did the same.

Then they heard the rumbling. Their horses started whining in panic as the Shaman tried to calm them down. The rumbling increased in intensity. Emon noticed the sands shift. The archers readied their bows and…

_SNAP._

With a sickening crunch one of the horses was snapped like a twig in between the Guardian’s giant maw. The archer let out panic screams as the Guardian swallowed his horse whole, leaving him alone in the sand. The second archer tried rescuing his friend but before he could his horse scurried away from the Guardian, the only trace of his friend being his dismembered arm.

The archer fired a fire arrow signalling for reinforcements as his horse fled the murderous Guardian. A second archer emerged from emerged, bow ready while the Guardian stalked its pray.

That’s when its eyes surfaced. The archer steadied his hand whilst the reinforcement tried to get into position. He fired the arrow which managed to hit one of the Guardian’s blazing orange eye, knocking the Guardian off course. The reinforcement joined his brethren in position. Emon thought that all was going well except for the unfortunate casualty. He wished that it was him in the place of that archer.

The archers waited for the Guardian to resurface at their position. They were ready with their bows drawn. But the Guardian didn’t resurface. They waited, the sands shifting beneath them when suddenly the Guardian emerged.

But not by the archers.

By the Shaman.

One of the Shaman was swallowed alongside his horse. The other Shaman’s horse panicked and threw him off, fleeing the area. Before the archers could get to the Guardian the other one was swallowed whole leaving behind not a single trace of his existence. The two archers started moving their horses to create space between them and the Guardian. The Guardian once again resurfaced, its eyes blazing orange. The archers managed to get both eyes this time causing the Guardian to veer off balance but not before taking out one of them with a swing of its tail. The archer hit the walls of the cave with a sickening crack.

The Guardian hit the northernmost wall of the cave. Emon and his Shaman galloped towards it, ready to begin the sealing.

The Guardian was shaking violently, trying to escape it’s precarious predicament. Meanwhile Emon handed the sword to one of the Shaman who climbed on its fur ready to draw the seal but then he paused.

“What’s the matter?” Emon asked the Shaman.

“There’s already a seal,” said the Shaman.

That didn’t make sense. Nobody had been to this Guardian’s cave ever since those teenagers. Nobody knew about the sealing of the Guardians except those that had written the scriptures and decreed this land forbidden.

This moment of pause was just what the Colossus needed. It sunk into the sand, the Shaman letting go just in a nick of time. Emon and the Shaman quickly got atop their horses, fleeing from the beast. Suddenly it’s glowing orange eyes surfaced from the sand, blazing with a ferocity Emon had never seen before.

One of the Shaman’s horses tripped and he was swallowed by the sand. The other galloped furiously, desperately trying to avoid the furious Colossus whose eyes burned with murderous intent. But the Colossus opened its giant mouth and the Shaman was swallowed into the Colossus’s mouth as if it was a whirlpool.

The only one in the cave was Emon and the Colossus inched closer towards him so much so that Emon could see the black dots in its eyes. He could see a little hint of remorse and guilt in the Colossus’s eyes before it was replaced with by rage and murderous intent. It opened its mouth but before Emon could be swallowed, he appeared at the entrance of the cave and the Colossus had turned around. He was surrounded by the remaining reinforcements who asked what had happened. Emon’s mind and heart was racing from what had just happened so it took him a while to explain what had happened.

On their way to the next Guardian they stopped by the temple. Emon had to find out why the Guardian of the sands had a seal on him. He needed answers and from there he got his answers.

In order to weaken Dormin the Gods sealed a part of him in one of the Guardians and buried it deep within the earth so that if Dormin were to ever come back, he would still need one more piece of his soul to be complete.

So those brave Shaman and Archers died for naught. For if Emon and his men had just read more of the archives those men would not have to give their lives for nothing.

Emon did not just have blood on his hands, no. His hands were drenched with it.


	14. Celosia

_Deep within the caves within a scorching desert_

_There lived a Guardian named Celosia_

_Smaller than the others he patrolled the caves_

_Until one day the humans came_

_And it seemed like they were here to stay_

_Celosia let them remain_

_And from fire, weapons were made_

_When the humans got themselves in danger_

_Celosia was ever the braver_

_Saving them from the flames_

_With the power of his stone armour_

_And the humans were ever in his favour_

_Repaying him with laurels, fame and snacks to savour_

_And the Guardian was glad for the attention_

_For he was considered the weakest amongst his brethren_

_And so, Celosia helped the humans from the pyre_

_Forever immortalised as the Guardian of fire._

_There came a day when the Demon was released_

_And the humans had a mission_

_To seal Dormin within the Guardians_

_Celosia was unaware of their plan_

_So, when the humans bound him with tight ropes_

_He thought nothing of it_

_Then came the fire_

_Celosia was unfazed for he had walked through fire as easily as they walked through the air_

_A blade was made molten white_

_And the Guardian writhed_

_For they were piercing through its armour_

_The Guardian wailed in pain_

_But the humans continued_

_The Guardian stared at their Chief_

_But his eyes remained impassive beneath his stone mask_

_The armour landed with a heavy thud_

_And the Guardian had collapsed_

_When the Colossus woke, he was behind a stone wall_

_With heavy armour on his back that didn’t feel like it belonged_

_Flashes of fire, a pale white sword_

_His body writhing in fear at the fire on the wall._


	15. Pelagia

It was Pelagia next.

Seidon’s cult had remained behind meaning that there would be innocents amongst the people in the temple. It was up to Emon to carry out negotiations so that lives wouldn’t be lost.

The hallway in the temple was vast and made of stone. Through the hallway was a bright light and a wide lake where the Guardian roamed.

Seidon appeared with two guards wearing a silver robe and a stone mask fashioned to the shape of their Guardian. The guards were wearing full face masks fashioned in the shape of their Guardian that gave Emon the chills.

“What brings you here?” Seidon asked.

“I am here on a mission,” Emon explained, telling about the journey to seal the demon within their god.

“You know my answer, Emon,” Seidon said. “We won’t let you taint our Guardian. Leave Emon and never come back.”

Emon left the temple but he would be coming back but not alone. He would be coming back with what remained of his army.

A scout was sent into the temple to survey the location to search for any of Emon’s people that may have stayed behind and surprisingly there was no one. No women nor children and barely a sign of the elderly. Emon thought that members of the cult would remain for they were notorious for being loyal to their cult to the point of insanity however it seemed that they had evacuated with the rest.

It was night and the soldiers were ready, bows nocked, swords drawn. Two Shaman were sent ahead with the swords ready to seal Dormin. Meanwhile Emon would lead the army’s charge into the temple and defeat Seidon. Explosives would be placed within the temple in order to wipe its trace from these lands.

The Shaman studied scriptures and found the best place to seal the Demon would be the Guardian’s chest for the head could be easily reached and many of the Guardians before had Dormin sealed within their heads.

The Shaman’s feet clattered against the stone hallway as they sprinted to the Guardian. Meanwhile the soldiers set a torch to the temple ready to burn it. Seidon’s men appeared from the halls, weapons drawn. Seidon stood out in his silver robes with his and a grin on his face. They were surrounded by his men who blocked all the exits while the temple was set ablaze.

Swords drawn, Emon and his army fought.

And they slaughtered.

The men around them were surprisingly inexperienced. Despite the fact that Seidon’s cult had managed to win over many of the finest soldier from their tribe. Surrounded in a ring of fire, Seidon stood face to face with Emon.

“You couldn’t just leave, could you Emon?” Seidon exclaimed. “You couldn’t just leave our Guardian alone. you couldn’t leave my people alone!”

“It’s because of you our tribe is divided!” Emon growled. “Because of you and your cult!”

Seidon let out a bitter laugh. “So that’s what you think of us. A cult!”

Seidon swung his sword which Emon easily dodged.

“So, you and your Shaman worshipping your Gods isn’t a cult!”

Seidon swung again, Emon dodged again.

“So those temples you built desecrating these lands!” Seidon growled. “Those aren’t the buildings of a cult?!”

Seidon slashed leaving an opening which Emon gladly took, sidestepping and stabbing Seidon through the chest.

“I don’t send children to fight wars they don’t understand,” Emon said, pulling out his blade causing a wave of blood to spill on his face. Seidon gurgled out a splatter of blood onto the stone floor of his temple.

At first, they thought it was a harmless cult, a group of unbelievers who brought no harm to the tribe. But then skilled soldiers were won over and Emon and the Shaman got increasingly suspicious. Then they started attacking innocents, merchants who passed by and travellers and Emon was wary of them. However, they had never done anything extreme until today.

Many of the dead amongst Seidon’s cult were people who had no place in a war. The elderly, women and even children. Emon saw the bodies of countless children all desecrated with ugly, ugly wounds. He couldn’t imagine what was going through the minds of his soldiers. He knew what was going through his mind. Guilt washed over him making his legs heavy. He felt as if he would buckle under the weight of his guilt.

They buried the innocents. Amongst Emon’s army were a meagre few deaths but no matter what Seidon’s people had done they would not be held responsible for the actions of a madman.

They left Seidon to burn with his temple and burned all of Seidon’s books, leaving only a few books to inform their people and further generations about the disgusting actions of this madman.

The Shaman came back alive. The deed had been done. Dormin was now sealed within the Colossus.

Though the deeds of Emon and his men, the slaughter of countless innocents. It would be a long time before they could even pray for atonement.


	16. Phalanx

Phalanx was considered the largest of them all.

A majestic serpent that blocked the sun, casting a overpowering shadow upon the land. It was the first Guardian they saw when they entered the lands and it was the last to lose its freedom.

For Phalanx roamed the lands freely, all around the lands people knew of the sheer size of Phalanx and the majestic aura it exuded.

It was unfortunate what had to be done to it.

The Scouts found a large desert and it was here that the Shaman would build the three altars of light which were designed to trap the Guardian within its confines.

They would first seal the Demon. The Guardian occasionally dissappeared within the sand to rest, it would be the job of some specially appointed Shaman to wait for the Guardian to appear and cling onto it to begin the sealing.

Meanwhile the men would build the alters of light at intersecting points and seal the Guardian within them forever confining the symbol of freedom.

...

That night Emon remembered his father.

His father was a balanced individual, neither too strict nor too kind. Neither too cruel or too lenient. Neither too emotional or too stoic.

Emon remembered when his mother died of an ailment and it was his father who was left to take care of him alone yet he never complained or showed resentment.

It was all to make him the Chief he was today so that when he died he knew the Tribe would be entrusted in good hands.

If only he could see him now.

Not only did most of the tribe sink into sin, many of them resorted to false gods in the Guardians. All under Emon’s watch.

And Emon started tarnishing the creations of Gods, reducing them to nothing but mindless Colossi who acted like animals rather than the Guardians of humans.

And finally the greatest sin of all. He would be tainting the last thing his father saw before he left them forever.

...

The guided the Guardian to the desert, the men would recite the incantations by the alters and the barrier of light would emerge, sealing the Colossus within.

Emon heard the heavy beating of wings and the sound of heavy gusts of air. Phalanx was here.

The Guardian veered left and right. For once its impassive eyes seemed vengeful. Emon understood why, it’s freedom had been stolen.

And so it appeared in the desert, casting a shadow upon them all.

The Colossus remained, staring down at them. It didn’t attack nor did it roar. Even in his old age, Emon did not know why. The Colossus had every right to attack them, to destroy them but it didn’t. Surely it had the power to.

The incantation was complete. The Colossus was trapped within an impenetrable barrier of light. The altars of light proved neigh impenetrable by the darkness that pervaded within the Colossus.

Emon may never know why the Colossus didn’t destroy them but he would never forget the look of disappointment in the Colossus’s blazing eyes.


	17. Cenobia

Before she became cruel, before she became obsessed with eternal youth the Queen had a majestic library. And people from all backgrounds were invited, various tribes, various people from many corners of the world could gain access to a wealth of knowledge and the Mayor was one.

In the library the Mayor read books of kingdoms and architecture, books of large civilizations of old and new and the spark in his heart was set ablaze. The Mayor from a very young age wanted to build a city.

And when the Queen started purging the tribes, he got his wish. They moved to the forbidden lands, a fresh start, a new beginning and a chance for the Mayor to fulfil his lifelong dream.

...

The forbidden lands were perfect. They were like a blank sheet of canvas, the Mayor holding the pen. So vast, raw and green was the land with such fertile soils and large trees that towered over them like the Guardians that roamed this land. The Mayor was called from some projects, mainly the building of the forge and the building of a city that would later be known as the City of Sin but the Mayor wanted to build his own city. A city with his own touch. A city that would be his bookmark on the ongoing book that was this planet. and so, the Mayor went to work, scouring the vast plains, scorching deserts and looming rainforests for the perfect plot of land.

And the Mayor found it. A grassy plain surrounded by large mountains that pierced the heavens. But the plot of land wasn’t the only thing he found.

The Mayor also found a Guardian.

...

Unlike the others, the Guardian was not covered in stone armour. Rather his fur was exposed for all to see. He was a lot smaller compared to his brethren, a lot like the Guardian of the forge but a teeny bit bigger. Without the stone armour the Mayor could see its muscles, tensing. The wind blew over its fur, making it ripple like a lake.

At first the Mayor was wary, so were his men. No one was allowed to raise weapons in the presence of a Guardian so the Mayor heard their weapons drop behind them with a heavy thud. The Guardian eyed them, its eyes orange. The Guardian walked up to the Mayor, seemingly sensing something in him. And the Mayor was starting into the Guardians orange orbs that shone like the sun. The orange was washed over by an azure wave, the Guardians eyes became an impassive blue. It was like the Guardian had looked through the Mayor’s mind and discerned his intentions. The Guardian turned and leapt took up its position on a large grass mound.

And so, the Mayor’s men started building.

...

Using the minerals from the nearby caves, they started their project. The Mayor was ecstatic, finally his dream was coming into fruition. And with that the Mayor found an unlikely friend.

The Guardian, whom the Mayor knew as Cenobia helped out in the building of the city. He would carry materials atop his mighty back, helping out the Mayor’s men and in the deepest nights the Guardian would stare at him with its calm blue eyes as the Mayor talked about his dream.

First it was the foundation, then the scaffolding and finally the buildings. The Mayor’s dream had finally come true.

...

The city became a haven for those who were oppressed. The misfits in the lands. Those who were abused, orphans who had nowhere to belong. Those who loved another of the same gender when their family or society shunned them. It was a city for those who didn’t belong to belong. And the Guardian protected them. If anybody erred or committed a sin they would be judged by the Guardian. The people of the City, or as it would later be known as the City of Acceptance. The people adorned the Guardian with stone armour which the Guardian wore with pride.

The city may not have been what the Mayor originally intended it to be but it gave people a place to belong and that was all that mattered to the Mayor. And the people, the people loved him. The Mayor never knew he would leave such a positive impact on so many and he had the builders and the Guardian to thank for such a momentous task.

And so, when the evacuation order was called, the Mayor was the only one who remained.

...

The men of Emon came. Battered and beaten, their horses walked into the empty husk of a city once majestic. They navigated through the narrow streets until they found the Guardian by the alter.

The Mayor was in his home when he saw them, Emon atop his marble white mare, his men following behind him all in masks, wearing large robes. Shaman, the mayor assumed. A few of them didn’t wear masks, instead donning armour. So Emon had brought the army.

There were very few men, barely enough to fill his city. He remembered seeing the army before the war against the Guardians. The Mayor wondered just how many innocent women had lost their husbands, sons and brothers in this awful plight of theirs. Just how many sons have lost their fathers?

They had all been evacuated: the women, children and the elderly. The entire army and all the Shaman remained but even those huge numbers were reduced to just a meagre few. The Mayor felt pity for Emon for he was the one who had to break the news to those that his soldiers left behind.

Emon’s target to we the Guardian and the Mayor would give his life to protect him. The Guardian did make his dream come true after all.

...

Cenobia stood by his alter that the people built in respect of him. His cautious blue eyes flashed a shade of orange as he saw the oncoming army. Cenobia stood up, wary of their approach.

The army drew their weapons, Emon waved his hand, commanding them to yield. They would do this cautiously. Emon was aware of the stone armour the people of this city built for the Guardian. It would take a lot of caution to remove it and place the seal. They would have to put the armour back on so as to keep the seal hidden so they had to be careful not to destroy it.

They had taken a few of the blacksmiths from the forge in order to carry out the task of removing armour and some of their strongest men would have to keep the Colossus tethered as they removed the armour. The task was a hard one, but not impossible.

Suddenly a man appeared in front of them. A rather round man wearing simple fur clothing. Emon recognised him as one of the lead architects who was in charge of the renovation of the temple. He was supposed to have evacuated but still remained. He was objecting, roaring at the top of his lungs about the Guardian and how he wouldn’t let anyone touch his city. Emon sighed, he told one of his men to deal with him, the soldier walked up to him and bashed him across the head with his shield causing the Mayor’s body to crumple. It was almost hilarious how quickly the fat man fell but Emon had no time to laugh, they had a job to do after all.

...

When the Mayor awoke, he was on the back of one of the horses. He felt a throbbing in his head and it took a while for his vision to clear. He noticed the horses funnelling into the valley outside his city. soldiers with grim expressions on their faces trotted on their horses and the Mayor was sitting behind one of them. The Mayor had foggy memories, of an army, a strong man towering over him and the last thing he saw before losing his consciousness was his city.

The Mayor gasped. His city.

He jumped off the horse and ran back to his city despite the objections of the army. Some tried to get him back but he outran them and made his way to his city, his dream. Through the giant stone gates and past the watchtowers. He navigated through the maze of buildings until he saw just what his city had been reduced to.

Obsidian black rubble littered the floor, stained with the red blood of the brave soldiers who gave their lives for a pathetic cause. Pillars lay around like discarded cigars and in the middle of it all was the Guardian Cenobia, his eyes a blazing orange, his stone body shrouded in an ink like darkness. The Mayor’s dreams were crushed, like the buildings Cenobia trampled underfoot, like the men whose bodies stained the purity of the Mayor’s dream.

The Guardian turned to face him. His city didn’t matter, if the Mayor could rescue his friend, his companion from the darkness that swallowed him, his attempts would not be for nought.

But alas, the darkness was too powerful.

Cenobia stood over the limp corpse of the only human he could call a friend and let out a guttural cry that could only be heard by the heavens.


	18. Argus

The fortress was built in the northernmost part of the lands. Built in the deepest part of the desert so that if the Queen’s men ever found them, they would have a place to hide. Guarded by Argus, a powerful Guardian with a sword, this would be their abode when danger knocked at their doors. With his unlimited strength, Argus had helped build the fort. It was a shame what they were about to do.

Argus seemed prepared. He knelt down, showing his head where they would draw the first seal. The Shaman decided that they would draw two seals. Not because they didn’t trust in Argus’s strength, rather because there was a lot of darkness concentrated within the blade and the only way to get rid of it was to draw two seals upon Argus’s body. Emon remained impassive. This had become all too monotonous. They would go to a Guardian, seal the Demon within, the Guardian would kill his men and so on and so forth. Emon’s heart had been shrouded in stone, so much so that he didn’t care what happened to his soldiers.  He had a task to do and that task involved sealing the demon within the stone confines of the Guardian.

They tried to leave before the Guardian awoke but ten soldiers were sliced in half one fell swoop of Argus’s blade. The others tried to slow Argus down with arrows but they were stepped on like they were insects.

Argus’s blade caused pillars of the fortress to fall down upon itself. Some of the fortress was reduced to ashes just like how Emon’s soldiers were reduced to nothing but flesh and bone. The Shaman atop the Colossus fell, their body cracking atop the cobblestone like glass. How fragile us humans are, thought Emon.

And of course, his men would come in and save him from the Colossus. Of course, he would be the one to be saved whilst dozens of sons, brothers, husbands and fathers died. After all he was the Chief, the heart of the tribe, the leader of men and women guiding their tribe to the right path and to their deaths. The slaughterer of many, both old and young.

The darkness in the Sword of Light pulsed, like it was mocking him. And didn’t Emon deserve to be mocked? It was almost funny how an army of tens of thousands of men had been reduced to only a few hundred. It was hysterical that it was Emon who would have to go back to his tribes and explain to all the widows and orphans how he had led their husbands and fathers to their deaths.

There was just one more Guardian left and the darkness in the blade was waning.

Emon sighed, on to the next task.


	19. The Last Guardian

Malus was the most dangerous Guardian. Not because of his size, nor its ability to conjure lightning bolts but rather its intelligence. Malus was the quickest thinking of all the Guardians and picked up on things much faster than the others.

The army only had around two hundred men left. This would be a dangerous game.

And Emon was willing to play it.

…

Battlements.

They were building battlements.

But why? Malus wondered. From his position atop the mountains Malus saw them all leave the lands. Were they going to war? Malus didn’t see any enemy forces entering the lands otherwise he would have smitten them. Malus kneeled down and eyed them. The expressions on their faces were grim. When he knelt, they ran back to their camp located at the bottom of the mountains.

Malus was left feeling very confused. Malus did not like being confused.

…

They had built temples along the mountainside. Why wouldn’t they? This was the largest Guardian after all. Many of the people called him the Watcher as Malus could normally be found roaming the platform atop where he stood, patrolling the lands below him, keeping it safe.

Emon wondered why Malus did not kill them when they first entered the land. They were obviously trespassing and didn’t belong. Even when the tribe slowly descended into decadence, Malus remained impassive. Malus had the power to destroy them all, yet he didn’t. Was it because he was curious or maybe he wasn’t as intelligent as they made him out to be?

Either way, once they were done with the battlements, they would have to confine him within the mountains. After all, Malus had the power to destroy all of the Colossi undoing all of their hard work.

…

Malus knew of their mission. He had witnessed his brethren fall to the darkness of Dormin. But surely their mission was done? After all, the darkness in the blade was weak. They didn’t have to continue with their mission. Malus could feel their souls returning back to the land, nourishing it and feeding it. The souls of humans were a source of power for the land and its Guardians. Every soul returned to the Forbidden Lands no matter how far they were.

It was why Dormin had such a keen interest in the land. From here, he could take control of the vast abundance of souls, corrupting them and making them lose their allure, for each soul was different and that was what made them beautiful.

Sometimes their Chief would come to check on his soldiers’ progress and Malus could see that his soul was no different than that of Dormin’s puppets.

…

There were many Guardians before. Guardians of all shapes and sizes, Guardians that were made of fire and those that roamed the oceans.

In scriptures that Emon found in temple, he learned of those Guardians. Pholux, Kyos, Adar Flam, Avus, Sirius, Aberth, Dionin and one simply known as the Monkey. Emon and his Tribe weren’t the first to enter the land, that was very well known as shown by the graves where Emon killed an innocent man. These early men were tormented by these seven Guardians who consumed their essence for power. The other Guardians were powerless, all except Malus. Malus was created by the Gods and with his divine strength he destroyed those corrupt Guardians, thereby freeing the early humans from the torment of those vile creatures.

Malus was thereby appointed the Watcher of the lands in order to prevent the same mistake from happening again.

The battlements were done. The men had also dug trenches in order to avoid Malus’s sight.

Their mission was so close to completion and Emon would complete it, no matter the cost.

…

Malus missed his brethren. Sure, he was younger than them but he still felt a bond of kinship, as if he had known them for millenniums even though it had only been a few centuries. It was sad to see them fall to the darkness one by one but Malus understood it was a necessary evil.

It seemed the humans were done with the battlements. He saw them down in the mountains, discussing something that was written down on large pieces of parchment. They all had grim expressions on their faces but fiery determination in their eyes. That was something Malus admired about humans, their determination and their drive to keep doing something no matter how much the odds were stacked against them. He remembered those humans, centuries ago praying day after day as their corrupt Guardians slaughtered them. No matter how many died, they still prayed. No matter how much pain they felt, they still prayed. Even the ones who fought the Guardians themselves prayed, not out of fear but rather out of faith that even though they lost their lives, their sacrifices were not in vain.

Malus was not of physical form then, but even in the room of white he could feel their prayers penetrating the place where his soul was created. It was beautiful. And because of that beauty, no matter what the humans did Malus would still forgive them. That was his conviction amongst a species filled with the determined.

The following morning, Malus felt something heavy on his legs.

…

They had built the chains so that even if Malus broke out of his confines. But that was not all.

At the bottom of the mountain, they built a gate so that no man could enter. The gate was locked by a seal that would only work if the sword of light was shone upon it.

And the sword of light? It would be hidden deep underground where no man would find it unless that man was truly insane…

Or in love, Emon joked to himself.

…

One day Malus found that he could not move. His legs were tethered to the ground by some sort of seal. He tried blasting it open with his lightning but to no avail. He tried turning but he couldn’t move his entire body, it was fixated in one place. Malus felt sad. He wouldn’t be able to see his incredible view, that of the sun rising and setting. Beyond the horizon he saw the humans all lined up on horseback. Were they going to war? But with whom? No enemy forces seemed to be climbing the mountain and it wouldn’t have been wise to tie him up in wartime.

Malus felt something being drawn on his scalp.

And then he realised…

…

The Shaman would just have to stab the sword. That was it would take and their battle would be done for. They would all be able to leave before the Guardian could relent.

This was the last Shaman left in the battlefield, a man who had voluntarily decided to give his life for he had nothing to live for. His family had been killed when Dormin had risen and his wife had been murdered by his own hands as she was one of Seidon’s cult. The man had been racked with guilt and decided to give his life for this cause despite Emon’s objections.

However, the mission would not, could not be that easy. Malus plucked the Shaman out of his head like he was nothing but lice and tossed him aside. The sword landed by the Guardian’s feet.

The Guardian’s shoulders glowed and he fired.

…

Guardians were not supposed to harm humans. But Malus was going to make an exception this time.

He was a fool for believing that the humans meant good. Nay, he willingly blinded himself to what they were doing making up lies to justify their taking away of his freedom.  He would not succumb to the darkness.

Malus let out a roar and fired.

…

The first to go were the architects. They took too much pride in their work, after all which aspiring architect would not want to see a creation that could tether a creature made by God. Nothing was left of them but ashes.

Soon the other men followed. Charging blindly into their deaths. Their horses and themselves being reduced to nothingness. Fools, Emon thought. They should’ve fled but no, they chose to participate in this fruitless battle. Desperately the men tried to charge into the fray and they were rewarded with death.

Emon saw men whose mares were disintegrated who tried to flee but were greeted by a bolt of lightning.

And then the Guardian charged up another bolt. A bolt that was aimed at Emon.

…

And it was done. The army was gone, reduced to ashes. Malus had done the deed. He may be punished by the Gods but Malus would not relinquish his freedom to that Dormin.

Malus felt horrible for what he had done, killing all those men. Part of him wished he didn’t do anything and let those men live. But he saw what had happened to his brethren, saw them wandering around aimlessly like puppets and did not wish that fate upon himself.

He felt something tickling on his fur. Probably the wind. Malus would have to find a way to free himself from these shackles, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his millennia tethered to one place.

The crawling was on his scalp now. It was just the wind. He had made sure to kill all of them. Unless…?

Before Malus could do anything, the sword met the seal. Malus writhed in pain, violently jerking. Some say Malus’s screams could be heard throughout the entire land. His clawed hands desperately trying to grab the human but to no avail. Emon held on for dear life, his body flailing around like an insect as held on to the sword, praying he didn’t let go.

Then silence. Malus stood limp. The deed was done. Dormin was finally sealed.

…

As Emon slid down the Guardian he noticed that there was nothing left of his army. They had all been reduced to ashes that drifted in the wind. Even his horse had been reduced to non-existence as Emon jumped off before the lightning could strike.

The only thing that remained of Emon’s tribe on this land was the buildings they built, the books they wrote and the songs they sung. Emon was the last member of his tribe in the forbidden land.

Emon found a place by the Guardian… no, the Colossus’s feet. His legs were heavy, his body felt like jelly and he collapsed, crying ugly tears that fell down his face.

And this is where the story of the People of the Forbidden Lands ends. With a man sobbing uncontrollably under the shadow of the colossus.

_Fin_


	20. Epilogue

_The Chief had found a pure white mare and some supplies as he scaled down the cliffs. He shone the sword on the gate and it opened._

_As he left, he heard a loud roar. The roar of a Colossus. A roar so powerful it shook the earth beneath him and caused the clouds to scatter._

_And so, it was the Chief and his pure white mare roaming the empty lands. Lands where people once laughed and feasted. Lands where people sinned and prayed. Lands where people loved and hated. Lands that the Chief and his people had once called home._

_The Chief was the last of his people. A bad man who had let countless die for something he thought was right but was so very far from right. A man who the people chose to lead them but had murdered them instead in cold blood. A man whose heart was not that of flesh but of stone. Stone, the likes of which could only be seen on the Guardians he had tainted._

_And this man was the last of his people. The last of the living within this land._

_Or so he thought…_

_When he reached the face of the temple, he saw a pony. A pure black pony with knobby knees struggling to keep itself from falling. A pony that would die within two days, give or take. Emon sought to give it food so that it might last just a little longer when he saw a boy with a mountain of fruit in his two small arms._

_The boy dropped the fruit when he saw the Chief. The fruit rolled down the hill as the boy tried to make a run for it but the Chief easily caught up to him due to being on horseback._

_The Chief assured the boy he would not hurt him. Asked why the boy had not evacuated with the rest._

_The boy said he was under the temple for the longest time, surviving only off of mushrooms. The boy said he was looking for his father who had sought off to rescue him from an ailment and was never heard of again._

_The Chief recognised this boy. It was the boy who was loved so very much, a man did despicable deeds to bring him back. A boy who was loved so very much, his father unleashed an ancient evil just to love him again._

_The Chief should kill him right where he stood. He should kill him for causing the deaths of thousands of innocent soldiers who just wanted to return to their families. It was so easy, the Chief just had to slice his throat and it would be done._

_Then the Chief saw the innocence in the boy’s blue eyes and he couldn’t bring himself to do it._

_Together they took care of the horse. The boy was rather skinny and so the Chief opted to hunt for him, choosing only the finest mint. The Chief discovered he had a strong grip and so sent him to pick up fruits. The Chief told the boy the story of his father, leaving out the gruesome details. It was a tear-filled night. Soon the boy’s pony was strong enough and so they left the Forbidden Lands for good._

_Let’s go Agro, said the boy as they left the temple and walked through the bridge._

_Why Agro? Asked the Chief._

_I was asleep for a long time, explained the boy. And while I was asleep, I had a dream of this woman with long silky black hair and eyes the same as mine. She was really beautiful._

_They had finally gone through the bridge and made it to the entrance to these Forbidden Lands._

_She looked very happy to see me and told me loved me, the boy said. We talked so much. I told her about my father and she was really sad. She looked very sad when I left her too though I didn’t know why. She told me to not forget her so since Agro here… The boy tapped the horse. Is a girl, I thought I’d name her after that lady so that I don’t ever forget her._

_The Chief nodded. The Chief realised he didn’t ask the boy for his name and was just referring to him as boy the whole time so he scratched his head and asked._

_Wander, said the boy._

_For the remainder of the journey, the only sound they heard was the clatter of their horses’ hooves._


End file.
